


Of Winter Dreams

by darlingdisastrous



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Adult Content, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Edwardian, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - No Nen, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - The Nutcracker Fusion, Arranged Marriage, Candy Canes, Children, Christmas Eve, Coming of Age, Corruption, Courting Rituals, Creepy Hisoka (Hunter X Hunter), Danger, Dark, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Disguise, Disturbing Themes, Dreams vs. Reality, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Edwardian Period, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fairy Tale Curses, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Retellings, Gon is a little shit, Gon is the Reader's brother, Hisoka is a Jester, I promise, If You Squint - Freeform, Illumi comes in later, Illumi is the Rat King, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Inspired by the Nutcracker, Killua is the Nutcracker, Magic, Magic Mirrors, Meddling Kids, Minor Hisoka/Illumi Zoldyck, Mistaken Identity, Older Man/Younger Woman, Poison, Rats & Mice, Reader is eighteen or nineteen, Reader-Insert, References to The Nutcracker, Secret Identity, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Suggestive Themes, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:09:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27661831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingdisastrous/pseuds/darlingdisastrous
Summary: Hunter X Hunter Nutcracker AUOn Christmas Eve, you receive a nutcracker as a courtship present. Things take a strange turn when later that night, you wake up to find that the nutcracker is alive! When you fall through a magic portal, you wind up in a dangerous land filled with magic, giant rodents, and a mysterious king who will do anything to get the nutcracker. Will you return home safely, or will you fall prey to the king, losing everything in the process?
Relationships: Alluka Zoldyck & Killua Zoldyck, Gon Freecs & Reader, Hisoka & Illumi Zoldyck, Illumi Zoldyck/Reader, Killua Zoldyck & Reader, Kuroro Lucifer | Chrollo Lucifer/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 52





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Christmas party, a courtship, and a gift.

You gasp, gripping your bedpost tightly. Behind you, Mathilda pulled tighter on the corset's laces.

"Breath in, miss."

You comply, inhaling shakily. You flex your fingers, which have been tightly clamped against the wooden leg of your bedpost for the past half an hour. The confines of your corset squeeze snuggly around your middle. Truth be told, you were still not accustomed to wearing corsets, having only just come out into society a few months prior.

"I'm almost finished," Mathilda assures you.

She pulls on the laces again, not roughly, but not gently either. Then, it was over. Mathilda steps back, giving the laces a once over to make sure every ribbon is straight and tidy.

"How does it feel, miss? I can adjust it."

You stand erect, resting your hand on your belly lower belly. Corsets were not the most comfortable invention of women's fashion, but they were functional. It was a constant pressure around your midsection, but not so much that you couldn't breathe. You turned to spy your reflection in the mirror.

The corset had done well in accentuating the womanly curves you possessed. Towards the back, you spied the straps connecting the bustle bottom, rounding out your rear. Mathilda had spent most of the afternoon fixing your hair just right. She'd tied it up the night before, then piled the ringlets atop your head, much like you'd seen your aunt wear hers. A thin layer of rouge covered your cheeks and lips. Your eyelashes had been painted in dark mascara.

You suppose the end result was to make you the epitome of a modern woman, but you merely felt like a child playing dress up.

It seemed Mathilda disagreed with you. Even though you were only in your underwear, she beamed at you with a proud glint in her eye.

"Oh, miss!" Mathilda claps her hands together, grinning broadly. "You're the picture of beauty. A definite head turner. Just wait until the gents catch a glimpse of you, your poor father will be fending them off with a stick!"

You laugh, shaking your head. "That's simply not true."

"Ah! I'd never lie to you, miss."

Mathilda started for your dress when there came a knock at the door. A moment later, Aunt Mito let herself inside. She came carrying a large, plain white box. Mathilda closed the door behind her in a hurry so that none of the staff would see you.

Your aunt gave you a once over. "Beautiful. Absolutely stunning, darling."

Behind her, Mathilda made a face, as if to say _see, I told you!_

You smile lightly. "And yet, I don't hold a candle to you."

"Oh, tosh." Aunt Mito came to your side, her red dress swishing about her feet with each step. She held out the box she carried and said, "For you."

You blink. Presents wouldn't be given out until later, so why would Aunt Mito give you yours now?

Hesitantly, you accept the gift. "Thank you."

"Open it now. I think it would be fitting for tonight."

Glancing between her and the present, you move to the bed and lay the box down. The lid came off with ease, revealing layer upon layer of velum. You tore through it with the grace of a dog and snatched hold of what lay inside.

"Oh, Aunt..."

On top were a pair of cream colored satin gloves. You'd never seen such a gorgeous pair before. You laid the gloves aside gently and withdrew the next item. A dress. The fabric was a rich emerald green brocade with sleeves that billowed until the elbow, where it became fitted until the wrists. You gently laid the dress down and pulled out the final piece: a cream-colored, high-neck camisole to wear under the dress.

You turned to your aunt and hugged her tight.

"Thank you."

From this angle, you could see the drab little blue number you _had_ been planning on wearing. It paled in comparison. It several years old, much too short for you to wear now and much too childish.

"I couldn't have you going out there looking any less than your best, darling." Aunt Mito pulls back and tucks an errant strand behind your ear. "But even without the dress, I know you'll make a lasting impression."

At this, your smile falters. Up until this point, you'd been doing your best ignoring the real reason for your excessive spoiling this evening. It wasn't just because it was Christmas, or because you were officially a woman in the eyes of society.

Aunt Mito lays a comforting hand on your shoulder. "I know you're nervous, darling, but you shouldn't be."

You wanted to put on a brave face for her. You wanted to show her you could handle it. But here, in your room, you let yourself feel vulnerable.

"I'm afraid," you whisper. "What if I make a fool of myself? Father would--"

"Don't worry about my brother. I can handle him. Tonight is about first impressions. After the wedding, you can learn to love him." She gives you a gentle smile and squeezes your shoulder. "For to night, all you need worry about is getting to know Mr. Lucilfer."

You inhale shakily and nod. Getting to know someone wasn't too hard. Granted, up until this point, your relationships with boys had been limited to your father and little brother. If there was one thing you could say with confidence about the mysterious Mr. Lucilfer, he would behave like no man you'd ever met before.

You straighten up and Aunt Mito motioned Mathilda over to finish dressing you.

✧

Father's Christmas party was a yearly tradition, going back long before you were born. It was something that his father did, and his father before him. There was never a year that went uncelebrated. The Christmas party was mainly attended by your father's business associates and a handful of family friends.

Growing up, there were never any children your age that came. They were either too old to play with the likes of you, or too young. So, for the most part, you stayed near Aunt Mito's side until Gon was born. By that time, you were placed in charge of your baby brother, as his mother had died in child birth. You took the duty seriously, treating Gon like a living babydoll. Of course, Aunt Mito helped where she could, but you took on the brunt of your little brother's care.

But now, Gon was twelve and there were more children around to be his playmates.

This time last year, you had been considered one of those children. You'd eaten at the children's table and sat through the children's magic show. This year, however, you were a woman. You had heavier expectations laid upon you. You had a courtship to secure.

You stand at the foot of the stairs, obsessively smoothing out your dress and making small talk with Aunt Mito. Father was somewhere, probably signing off on last minuet decisions for the party. Gon came down soon after. He was frowning, fighting with the tie around his neck while his attendant ran after him with his suit jacket.

He stomped up to you, stewing with anger. "Why do I have to wear this stupid thing?"

You kneel to the floor, mindful of your dress, and swat his hands away. "Because, you look handsome in it."

"But it chokes me!" Gon made a face, but kept from fidgeting when you tied his bowtie. "Please, don't make me wear it."

You pressed the bowtie flat and took his jacket from the attendant, helping him into it.

"I'll tell you what," you say, poking his nose. "If you promise to not mess with the tie, I'll sneak you an extra serving of cake."

His eyes light up. "Okay!"

You grinned and pat him on the head, sending him on his way.

The grandfather clock in the parlor chimed seven o'clock. Aunt Mito walks arm in arm with you to the parlor, where you'll greet the guests. Gon sits by the glittering Christmas tree, entertaining himself with a few of his toys while he waits on his friends to arrive.

By seven thirty your home is collecting a steady stream of guests. You spend the first half of the night doing your duty and greeting them as they walk in. Most of the men make their way to the library, leaving the women and children to collect in the parlor.

When the magician arrived, he was met with the loud cheers of the children. They pull on his coat tails, voices clamouring over one another as they lead him into the parlor. You, yourself, felt giddy because the magician always brought toys. Your excitement was admonished the moment Lady Bisky pulled you away to a small receiving room to talk with some ladies about this-and-that.

(As it turned out, this-and-that revolved around the topic of one Mr. Lucilfer. He had already come in, so that meant you must have already met him. For some reason, this makes you more anxious as he had you at a disadvantage. He knew who you were, but you didn't know him.)

When the clock struck eight o'clock, the butler announced that dinner was ready.

You started to walk off in the direction of the kids, behind following Gon's messy head, when Aunt Mito caught you by the elbow and pulled you in the opposite direction.

For as long as you'd been alive, the grand banquet room was off limits to children. It was only ever open for parties, and even then it was used exclusively for the adults. You had only ever seen the inside of it when you snuck in, once. But then, it was the middle of the season, when no parties were held, and the room had been so dull and dreary it made you sad.

But now, it was an opulently decorated room, with a pine Christmas tree of its own, with candles everywhere. It glistened gold and red, full of warmth and holiday cheer. There were crystalline wine flutes and beautiful china laid out at every seat. Food had been laid out along the long table, filling the room with its delicious scent and making your mouth water.

You sat by Aunt Mito and a few other women who were apparently good friends of hers. (They seemed to remember you from when you were smaller, but you had no recollection of them.)

Half-way through the meal, Aunt Mito leaned over and whispered in your ear. "Have you talked with him yet?"

It took you a moment to remember the 'him' she spoke of.

You shook your head. "I have not even seen the man."

"That's strange." Aunt Mito frowned. "I'm sure we met him at the door ... But he did come late. Lady Bisky may have already stolen you away at that time."

She scanned the crowd but couldn't seem to find him. You, too, looked in wonder. Each unknown male face made your heart lurch. Could that be him? You had no idea what he looked like, Aunt Mito had given you no details. In fact, no one had told you much except his name was Chrollo Lucilfer and he was of new money. Some whispered he was a foreign Count, while others said he was a highwayman taken on a new identity.

You eventually gave up your search and returned to your meal.

When dinner was over, the magician performed a short show that all attended. You hung near the back, taking to the shadows so no one would see your despondency. The children all sat up front and were eventually gifted toys from the magician's sack. Babydolls. Toy soldiers. Hobby horses. Wooden swords. Dancing shoes. You couldn't help but feel slightly envious. What fun was it being an 'adult' if you didn't receive special toys?

You were drawn out of your reverie by a touch on your elbow.

"Ah, there you are." It was your father. He paid no mind to your mellow mood and smiled. "I have someone I to introduce you to."

Father motions to someone just beyond your line of sight and a man rounds the corner. Though you had yet to be introduced, you knew instinctively who he was. _Chrollo Lucilfer_.

The man was tall, much taller than your father. He carried himself with an air of easy confidence. His inky hair was combed back from his forehead. He was completely devoid of facial hair, which seemed strange as it was the fashion for young men, but it only added to his charm.

"Darling, this is Chrollo Lucilfer."

Mr. Lucilfer's eyes crinkled as he smiled. It didn't seem forced or awkward, but genuine. He took your hand and kissed your knuckles. You could feel his warmth through the fabric of your gloves. "A pleasure to finally meet you."

His voice was smooth, enveloping you in warmth.

"The pleasure is all mine, sir."

Father didn't linger. He left the two of you to join in the group of adults watching the magic show. Your heart beat wildly against your breast. Though you weren't technically alone, as there was an entire group of people at your backs, it was more privacy you'd ever had with a male outside of your family.

He stoops down lower to allow you to converse more intimately. Shamefully, you glance at his lips. Perfect and pink.

"You're very lovely," Mr. Lucilfer said in a low voice. "I caught a glimpse of you earlier, but you seemed busy and I had no intention of intruding."

You blush. "I fear the ladies in my company earlier this evening were all interested in you."

"Oh?"

"That is, I mean to say, if I had met you yet."

Mr. Lucilfer's eye twinkles. "Ah, then maybe I should have came. Though, I don't see how I am an interesting topic for you young ladies to talk about."

"You would be surprised."

Thankfully, he chuckles at this. You tilt your head. The soft light played off his face giving his more hard features an ethereal glow. You admired his strong jaw and straight nose. He was naturally attractive. If you passed him on the street, you might've been intimidated, but his gentle voice put you at ease.

"I have something for you," he say.

You blink. "You do?"

From within his coat, he withdrew a package. It was a simple box with a green ribbon wrapped around it. You accepted it, your nerves flairing up again.

"You shouldn't have..."

"Maybe not. But I wanted to." He gestures to the package. "Open it."

You're careful unwinding the ribbon. You remove the lid gently, and gasp. Nestled gently within layers of tissue paper is a small nutcracker. It had shock white hair and bright, playful blue eyes.

"Oh it's _beautiful_." You pull the nutcracker from its package and hold him. He has a nice weight to him and a sword that is a gleaming silver. "Thank you so much, Mr. Lucilfer. I'll treasure it forever."

"Please, call me Chrollo. If we are courting, I'd prefer you use my Christian name."

"Alright ... _Chrollo_." You look up at him through your eyelashes. "Thank you."

The tender moment is unfortunately broken by your little brother. He runs up beside of you, uncaring that you're in someone else's company, and tugs on your skirt.

"Look!" Gon holds up his fists, which are clenching around several toy soldiers at once. "Now I've got my own army, isn't it just amazing?!"

You glance at Chrollo apologetically. "Yes, they're very dignified. Are you going up to bed?"

Looking around, you watch as many of the children are being scooped up by their parents. At this point in the evening, most the women and children left to go to bed. The ones who stayed, well, you didn't really know what they did. You'd never been allowed to stay You supposed that this was the perk of being an adult, getting to stay at the Christmas party longer.

"Yeah. You won't forget about your promise, will you?

It takes you a moment to remember. _The cake_. You look him over, noting that his bow tie is slightly crooked, but otherwise fine. He'd even kept his jacket on. You smile and nod.

"I'll bring it up as soon as I can, but you might be asleep."

"No way! I'm staying up to meet Santa! I'll be awake, don't you worry."

You ruffle his hair. "Okay then."

But Gon wouldn't leave. His eyes landed on the wooden soldier you held in your hand. "Hey, what's that?"

"Oh." For a moment, you cradle the gift a little closer to your chest, unwilling to show him. But, the big sister inside of you relented and you held it out. "It's a nutcracker. Mr. Lucilfer here gifted it to me. Isn't it pretty?"

Beside you, Chrollo chuckled.

"He would be an amazing general for my men! Can I see him?"

Before you can respond, Gon dropped all his soldiers to the floor and snatches the nutcracker out of your hands. It all happened too fast for you to react, and by the time you do he's half-way across the room.

"Gon-!"

But Gon wasn't listening. He'd taken off running to show the nutcracker to one of his playfellows. Before he could reach him, his foot caught the edge of the rug and Gon toppled over. You clasped your hand over your mouth to keep from shouting. Your nutcracker flew from Gon's hands and crashed to the floor hard. There was an audible snap as it's arm broke off.

A choked cry escapes you.

Gon lands on the floor at the same time, but quickly scrambles to his feet. He gathers up the broken nutcracker and looks back at you, guilt filling his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

He trudges over to you, handing over the pieces. Shame prevented him from looking at you.

You wanted so badly to scream at him. It wasn't his toy to take. He should've asked you. He should've been more careful with items that weren't his. You wanted to cry, too. It hadn't been but mere moments since Chrollo gave the nutcracker to you and now it was broken.

But, you didn't do any of these things. You bite your tongue, keeping tears at bay. "At least you're not hurt."

"I'm really, really sorry--"

"I know."

Chrollo lays a comforting hand on your back. "It's an easy fix. If we find some glue, it'll be good as new in the morning."

"I don't know..."

"I do." Chrollo removes his hand and motions to the footmen to get the glue. "You'll see."

You nod dejectedly.

The footmen returned with the jar of glue and passed it over to Chrollo. He took a paintbrush and swiped a thick layer of paste on the splintered wood. You hand him the arm when he asks for it and watch as he carefully presses it to the wood, applying just the right amount of pressure. Then, he took the green ribbon that had decorated his gift and created a sling.

The people all clap. You hadn't realized this even had drawn a crowd.

"Mr. Lucilfer, you are astounding," praised Lady Bisky.

"I thank you." Carefully, Chrollo passes the toy back to you. "But really, it's nothing."

Despite the fact that it was been fixed, your mood was sour.

"I thank you again, Mr. Lucilfer. And I apologize that it happened in the first place."

Chrollo waves this off. "He's just a boy, and accidents happen. Just take care not to move that arm too much and it'll be good as new."

You nod, keeping your eyes downcast. You won't cry. You won't cry. You won't cry.

Someone lays their arm around you. You don't have to look up to know it was Aunt Mito.

"It's quit late, my darling. I think it's best if you turned in."

Relieved for her intervention, you nod. "Of course." You turn back to Chrollo and bow your head. "Goodnight, Mr. Lucilfer."

"Goodnight."

Aunt Mito leads you up the stairs, and you don't look back. Its only when you're upstairs that you allow your mask to crack. A lone tear escapes your eye and you wipe it away furiously. Crying over broken toys is childish. It's not like Gon meant it.

(Still, he was the one who caused it. Even if he is just a boy, he shouldn't have acted like that.)

Mathilda helped get you undressed and took your hair out of it's intricate updo.

"I heard Mr. Lucilfer was the most handsome man in attendance tonight," she gushed. "You are so lucky, miss. And for him to give you a gift like that! How could you be anything but half in love with him already?"

You stared at your little nutcracker, bittersweet emotions filling you.

"He was very handsome," you say. "A true gentleman."

Mathilda grinned broadly. "Oh, miss. It'll only be a matter of time before I'm dressing you in your wedding gown. I can see you now!"

You smile but you're in no mood for her antics tonight. You need sleep. Rest will wash away all these negative emotions. You send Mathilda off and find a cloth to rid yourself of makeup.

Settling into bed, you find yourself staring at your poor nutcracker again. It looked so pitiful all the way over there. Sad, even.

When you were younger, if something happened to one of your toys that they needed fixing, you always let them sleep next to you so that they might not be alone and in pain. Perhaps you were just sentimental tonight, being too old to be a child, but too young to be an actual adult. Perhaps that's why you brought the nutcracker into bed with you and laid it on its own pillow.

Little did you know that the night was far from over.


	2. Chapter 2

It was the dead of night.

The guests had long since left the Freecs home and were sleeping in their own beds by now. The streets were empty, save for the vagrants and ne'erdowells looking for trouble.

Gon Freecs was dead to the world. He'd fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, forgetting all about that extra slice of cake. You fell into a turbulent sleep, tossing about every few minutes. The events of the day weighed heavily on your mind and you couldn't escape them, not even in sleep. Aunt Mito turned in not long after and was dreaming pleasant dreams. Ging Freecs was the only member of the family who deigned to stay up later, but by the time the large grandfather clock in the parlor began to chime twelve, he'd fallen asleep at his desk and no one would disturb him until morning.

All was asleep. All was quiet.

That is, until twelve midnight. You see, _not everything in the house was asleep_ ; rather, they were shackled to the whims of magic, and magic dictated when they could be free to move about the land of the mundane.

With the first chime of the grandfather clock, a ripple shot through our world and the Other World, aligning them as one. Those who were awake at such an ungodly hour would have felt it. It was like jolt of electricity passing through you.

Then, in the upstairs bedroom of the oldest Freecs child, there was a bright flash of light.

And this, in turn, woke you.

You're not sure what it was at first. You're disoriented from sleep, eyes unaccustomed to the dark, but you know that your eyes do not deceive you. For what do you see upon first waking up? A tiny man--no, your _nutcracker_ \--sit up. It pushes itself upright and doesn't spare you a single glance before running over you and sprinting out your bedroom door.

It's not until the fourth chime that you're on your feet to follow it. You slip on your slippers and grab your housecoat out of instinct, tying it around you as you hurried from the room.

The nutcracker is fast, considering he has tiny wooden legs. You don't even see him anymore, but you can here the quiet taps of wood against wood headed down to the parlor, so you chase after it.

You speed into the parlor. The grandfather clock is on it's ninth chime. The nutcracker is latched onto the lower door, hanging by the key. There is an audible _click_ and the door swings open. You're not certain what you expected to happen, but a bright white light coming from _inside_ the clock wasn't it. You step back, shielding your eyes. It's so bright that it lights up the entire room like daylight would.

You hear the nutcracker's wooden feet hit the floor and force yourself to look back. It doesn't seem phased at all by the rough landing and runs around the lower door to where the pendulums _should_ be, but aren't. It then flings itself inside, the strange light swallowing the wooden toy whole.

The wind whistles, agitated. It seems to shake the home's very foundation. Ornaments fly off of your Christmas tree, disappearing into the grandfather clock as well.

You race forward, no longer in control of yourself. Something cold and wet seeps into your slippers. _Snow_. How was it snowing inside the house?

The wind--which you've now determined is coming from _inside_ the clock--lashes at your body like a frozen whip. And then, there is a tug on your nightie. You stagger forward.

That invisible whip has curled itself around your waist, pulling you closer to the light. It's so bizzare, you don't fight it. You are paralyzed, forced to submit to the whims of this strange, supernatural force.

The grandfather clock is on its eleventh chime.

You stagger forward after a particularly harsh jerk. The white light blinds you, you're so close. Snow flakes whizz past your cheeks, slicing them like tiny blades. And, suddenly, you're falling forward. You scream, but it's already too late. You've been sucked inside.

The lower door of the clock swings shut, the key locking it on its own. The bright light dies down. The clock chimes twelve. The house is quiet and still. No one would've known anything magical transpired unless they spied the small pile of snow in front of the clock, which would be melted by morning.

✧

"Hey." A clunky boot nudges your side. "Are you dead?"

You attempt to swat the boot away, but to no avail. You don't want to wake up. But the sun is shining against your eyelids. It must be nine-thirty already, and though you really don't want to get up, you know you must.

But when you open your eyes, you realize you're not in your bed. In fact, you're outside, laying in a snow bank!

You yelp, sitting up quickly. You reach for the ties of your housecoat, pulling it tighter around your scantly clad body. Your eyes widen to the size of saucers. Aunt Mito was going to kill you. Society would crucify you! What proper young woman slept in snow banks in only her _nightie_?!

And then you remember the voice you'd heard whilst sleeping. You turn your head and find your nutcracker, only he's not small anymore. In fact, he's life sized! You scramble back, putting as much distance between the two of you as you possibly can.

There are two reasons why this is happening. One. You're still asleep. (You like this option.) Two. You've gone off your chump. At some point in the night, your mind snapped and now you're seeing things! They'd surely send you away for this. You'd be locked up forever, never to see the light of day again.

"Calm down," the nutcracker said, like it was annoyed with you.

You make a strange noise. "You ... you can _talk_?!"

"Of course I can talk." The nutcracker puts one hand on its hip, its painted eyes narrowing. "Geez, you're pretty rude, you know that? First, you follow me--by the way, you're not very good at sneaking around--and then you insult me? What's up with that?!"

You grab the sides of your head. "This is a dream. Just a dream. You're going to wake up any second now."

Suddenly, the nutcracker reaches down and pinches your arm between its block fingers. You yelp, pulling away.

"What was that for?!"

"To prove you're not dreaming. Now, can you get up? I'd rather _not_ be here any longer than I have to be."

You shake your head. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

To think, the people in town watching you walk around like an idiot, following an invisible nutcracker! It was bad enough you're talking to it, but thankfully no one is around, or else you would've been thrown in the looney bin faster for sure. If you walk away now, you can pretend none of this ever happened. You just needed an excuse as to why you were outside...

The nutcracker shrugs. "Suit yourself. If you think you can handle the rats then great, just don't go blaming me when you wind up dead."

" _Dead?_ " You touch your hand to your throat. "What a horrible thing to say!"

"It's an even worse death."

Now, you weren't the biggest fan of rats, either but you felt a little skeptical about what the nutcracker said. "How are rats going to kill me?"

It tapped its wooden chin. "Hm. Stabbing, if you're lucky. Biting. Eating your flesh. Ripping your insides out. Or, they might take you with them and throw you in the dungeon. If they see you with me, they'll definitely do that. They'll leave you to their king, and believe me when I say that's a fate worse than death."

Your mind reels. Not that you actually believed the nutcracker, but the fact that he could come up with such horrid scenarios made you ill.

"I think you put too much stock in the rats," you say. "The worst I've ever seen them do is chew through cloth or get into the pantry."

"These aren't your Mortal World variety rats," the nutcracker says with a sneer. "These are intelligent beings as big as I am. Sometimes bigger. And just because they're intelligent, doesn't mean they'll listen to reason. They only listen to one person, the kind, and they'll do anything to capture me. Believe me or don't. I don't care."

The nutcracker spins on its heel and walked away. It sends a wave of panic through you.

Though you were still skeptical about everything it said (and the fact it was _talking_ ), in the back of your mind, you knew it wouldn't lie to you.

"W-Wait!"

It groans, stopping abruptly. "Make up your mind, lady!"

You fix the toy your fiercest glare. "My mind _is_ made up, thank you very much. I don't believe this silly talk of giant rats or rat kinds or what have you. I simply don't wish to be lost. I seem to have wandered quite far, and if you can lead me back home I would appreciate it greatly. Preferably on a path that no one may see me like ... this."

The nutcracker looks you over, disinterested. It didn't seem phased at all that you were scantly clad in only your sleepwear. It stares at you, unabashedly. What a strange, improper thing it was, this nutcracker! It could do with learning some manners.

"Well, I'm afraid I can't do that."

"Can't do ... what? Take me home, or take a path that no one can see me?"

The nutcracker shrugs. "Both."

Your heart plummets. "But-!"

"Look, lady. I dunno if you're stupid or what, but when you followed me through that portal, you left your world behind. It's nearly impossible to get back, now. The king is the only one with a portal that leads to the Mortal World. All the others have been sealed shut for years."

The nutcracker's words confused you. Mortal world? Portals?

Images of last night flashed through your mind. The grandfather clock, the bright light, the wind that pulled you in. The never ending fall. It seemed too fantastic to believe, and yet here you are. Wherever _here_ is.

You jab your finger at the sky. "What about that thing we fell through? Can't we just ... use that?"

"I just _told you_." The nutcracker huffs, sounding like a petulant child. "Portals are rare. The one you followed me through was a one time thing. We're lucky it brought us here and not the palace. Then you'd really be in trouble."

You cross your arms and narrow your eyes. "I don't think you're telling the truth. I think you don't _want_ to help me."

"I don't," says the nutcracker. "But I am telling the truth. There are certain times of the year where the wall between our worlds are thinnest. Last night was one of them. And I'm lucky it worked, or else I'd be stuck in your world who-knows-how-long." It matches your glare. "So, are you coming or are you staying?"

You were at a loss. If what it said was true, then you were stuck here (wherever here was). You didn't even know if you could trust the nutcracker! It outright admitted that it didn't want to help you! But, if you really were in some unfamiliar realm, then being left behind was not the best course of action for you. Who knew if you could eve find your way out of these woods on your own?

So, you made a judgement call.

"Fine. I'm coming with you."

✧

Far away, in a palace high atop a mountain, two figures stared into a mirror. It wasn't a normal mirror like the kind you see in the mortal realm, but a magic one. The image rippled, like a pool of water, distorting the scene that played out before them.

The jester turned towards his king, eyebrows raised. "Now, how about that?"

The king might as well have been stone. He didn't so much as blink, not wanting to miss a moment. "It was only a matter of time Killua came home."

"Mmmm." The jester rests his hands on his hips. He had his doubts about the young king's return, but he didn't share this with his companion. Instead, he changes the subject. "Who is the girl with him?"

"No one important." The king tilts his head, studying the strange girl. "Mortal, by the looks at it."

"Poor thing, she won't survive the week." The jester leers at the image, an oily smile spreading across his face. "It's been so long since I had a mortal play thing..." He leaves the end of his statement open, but by the tone of his voice, it was easy to tell what he meant.

There was a pause. The king makes a face, unimpressed by the jester's comment.

The jester sighs, "Nevermind. What will you do about Killua?"

"He wont escape this time. I'll make sure of it." The king presses his finger to his lips, deep in thought. "Call out the guard."

The jester bows comically low, brushing the tip of his shoe with his hand. "As you wish, my liege."


	3. Chapter 3

The nutcracker was not a very chatty thing, you came to find out. No words had been exchanged since you agreed to come with him. That was well over an hour ago.

Then again, nutcrackers weren't supposed to _talk_ at all; however, given the circumstances, you thought it would take advantage of the strange powers.

Snow soaked through the flimsy fabric of your slippers, leaving them soggy. Your toes were frozen stiff. Your feet ache. The pain might not’ve been so bad had you had something to distract yourself with.

"Where _are_ we, anyway?"

"Candy Cane Forest," said the nutcracker. "But if you’re asking where we are in broader terms, then we are in the Other World."

"Candy Cane Forest..." You echo.

Nothing around you resembled a candy cane whatsoever. In fact, the trees looked like those that you had at home, with dark brown wood and quill-like green leaves. Although, now that you thought about it, the woods did smell like mint. 

The nutcracker, seemingly reading your mind, added, "They're edible, too."

"Really?"

You glance up at a low hanging branch. Your stomach growled embarrassingly loud. You reached up to break a piece off, but the nutcracker spoke again.

"You might not want to, though. There's arsenic in it. Oh, and the forest is endangered, or whatever."

You quickly jerked your hand away, eyes wide. " _Arsenic_?"

"Hm? Yeah. Pretty much all the natural sweets in this world have a little in them. It's for the rats. The people in the villages started doing it to keep the rats at bay, maybe kill a few off to weaken the king's army, but what they didn't know was that the king always poisons the rats' food to build up a tolerance for situations like this."

"How horrible..."

The nutcracker shrugs indifferently. You wonder how it can be so unaffected by things like this.

✧

"Where are we going?"

The sun was now directly overhead but it did nothing to warm you. You were unable to hide your shivers, now. Your teeth chattered nonstop. The nutcracker had sent you several annoyed looks, but otherwise didn't acknowledge it.

"A village."

It gave you no more information, striding ahead of you with quick, purposeful steps.

"How much longer until we get there?"

You weren't sure how much more you could take. Your feet hurt. Your ears hurt. Your fingers hurt. Your nose was running something horrid. You needed a hot bath, or at least a fire to warm your extremities. Who knew what would happen if you didn't thaw out soon?

"Not long."

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. You wondered if it’s feet were getting tired like yours, or if it was getting hungry. Probably not. 

✧

"Are there others like you?" you ask.

The nutcracker stiffens. "What do you mean?"

You shrug, shivering. "Well, if this really is another realm, or whatever you said, and we are walking in a poisoned forest made of candy cane, and you're a talking nutcracker ... I guess what I'm getting at is, are all of you like this? Besides the rats."

The nutcracker didn't speak. It kept its eyes downcast, staring at the icy path before it. "No," it said bitterly. "I'm the only one."

"Oh." You, too, averted your gaze. "I'm sorry."

"Tch."

The nutcracker hurried on ahead. It wasn't hard to catch up, the nutcracker was about the same size as your little brother. Though Gon was fast, he had little legs. The same could be said about this nutcracker.

"If you don't mind me asking," you begin slowly, "What happened?"

Your words ring out in the silence between you, and instantly you know you should’ve left it be. The nutcracker stiffened, steps faltering.

You might've left the subject alone but the cold wore away all inhibitions. You wanted to satiate your curiosity, as it was the only thing keeping you from collapsing from sheer exhaustion.

And so, you ask. (Rather insensitively, too). "Was it some kind of bonfire?"

The nutcracker stopped completely. It turns to you, painted eyes narrowed in a deadly glare. You take a step back, suddenly very fearful of the wooden toy.

Suddenly, it bursts out laughing. The nutcracker doubles over, slapping the wooden blocks of its fingers over its mouth, as if to stifle it.

You stare at it with horror. Surely, if its people were slaughtered, this was nothing to laugh about!

But the nutcracker kept on laughing until it started to wheeze. It reminded you all too much of a younger child ready to mock it’s object of prey mercilessly.

"You're pretty funny, you know that? For an old lady, that is!" The nutcracker slaps its knee. "A _bonfire_? PFFFT!"

Embarrassment colors your cheeks. "It was only a question. I don't know anything about this world! If I am wrong then correct me. It is foolish to just stand there and laugh."

The nutcracker straightened out and wiped under its eye, as if wiping away a tear. "I don't think I've laughed that hard in a decade. A bonfire. Geez, you are stupid. But it's okay, cause you're a stupid kind of funny."

You didn't appreciate being laughed at or being called stupid. You turned away from the nutcracker, shunning it.

"What? Can't take getting laughed at?" the nutcracker goads.

"It’s immature and—not to mention—rude."

The nutcracker shrugs, though it seems considerably less annoyed with you now, but not dropping it’s mocking tone. "Maybe ask instead of making stupid assumptions?"

"Okay." You don't point out the fact that you _did_ ask before, and instead try again. "What happened?"

The nutcracker’s smile dissipates into a neutral expression.

"I was cursed."

The nutcracker said it as if it were talking about the weather. Simply. Conversationally. No bitter inflection in the voice.

You frowned. If it was cursed, then that meant ... "You're not really a nutcracker?"

"Yeah."

"Then, what are you?"

Your mind flashed to several different possibilities. Maybe, the nutcracker was really one of those giant rats! It seemed to know a lot about them, after all. Or, maybe it was something else, like a living gingerbread man? No, that seems too far fetched. (As far fetched as a living nutcracker?)

"I'm the king."

This, you weren't expecting. "The _king_?!"

After all those horrible things it said about the rats and the king, you hadn't expected it to be him! 

"Keep it down, will you?" The nutcracker glanced around, hand resting on its sword. "You don't want us to be discovered, do you?"

"But what does it matter? You're the king, you control those giant rats! You said so yourself!"

"No—it's not like that." It huffed, took one last glance around, then pulled you off to the side. "The guy that's ruling now is the king regent. My brother."

You nodded, urging him to go on.

"I never wanted to be king, okay? From the moment I was born, it was decided that I would be the one to rule the Other. I hate it. I hate the crown, I hate my family, I hate the Other. There's nothing I want more in the world than to be free of it. So, I ran away." The nutcracker found an overturned tree and sat down. "My brother found me. See, he's the exact opposite of me. He is the perfect soldier, my parents made sure of it. He follows their every order, even now that they're gone.

"After my first escape, I knew I could do it a second time. But, my brother closed almost every single portal in Other, save for one that's in his study in the castle. I planned on using it to escape again, but he caught me. He told me that his magician had put a curse on the portal. That if I went through it, I wouldn't come out the same. I didn't care. I still don't care. Being free as a nutcracker is better than never being free at all."

You frown, "So, why did you come back?"

"For my sister." The nutcracker averts his gaze and said nothing more.

"And your sister, she's inside the castle, isn't she?"

He nods. "Deep inside."

You purse your lips. "If I help you get her out, will you help me get home?"

He looks up, eyebrows pushing downwards. "I already told you, it's impossible."

"No it's not. If you're the king, the true ruler, then you outrank your brother. You're over him, and he's over the rats, yeah? Then you can command the rats. We can get into the palace, save your sister, and then you point me in the direction of this portal and I'm home free!"

"Didn't you hear anything I just said? Illumi is dangerous, he—" The nutcracker stopped abruptly, head jerking to the side.

You took advantage of his quiet. "You did it before, and you can do it again. _You're the king_. If your brother is as obedient as you say then he will listen to you. He's not going to do anything to hurt you or your sister. And all I want is to get home, I'm sure he'll understand that!"

"Shut up," he hisses.

"No, you need to hear me out!"

The nutcracker lunged forward, off his stump and slapped his wooden hand over your mouth. You cried out in protest. Who did he think he was?!

The wind whistled. A branch snapped. Your head snapped to the side in an attempt to locate the source. In the corner of your eye, you saw it. At first, it didn't look much like anything, just a dark figureless shape. But then it got closer and you _saw_ it.

It was large, perhaps your height, with grey-ish brown fur. The whiskers were the size of your forearm, and the things had great black beady eyes that gleamed in the sun. Even stranger, somewhere between bizzare and comical, was the fact that the giant rodents wore clothing. Green, militant vests covered their torsos and a black leather scabbard hung around their hips, holding their very real (very sharp) swords.

The two of you didn't move. You held your breath. It appeared the rodents hadn't noticed the two of you yet. You glanced down at the nutcracker with wide eyes, silently asking _what do you do_. The nutcracker looked at you pointedly, his hand inching towards his own sword. He wasn't going down without a fight.

He takes one step back. The snow crunches softly underfoot—but it was loud enough. The rats snap to attention, setting their beady eyes on the two of you.

“Run.”

The rats charge you. 

The nutcracker pushes you away, drawing his sword. You stagger back, flailing your arms to keep you up right.

You took off running in the direction the two of you had been walking right as their swords clashed for the first time. In the back of your mind, it seemed unfair that the nutcracker should have to deal with those two on his own, but what help would you be?

Several stout figures spring out from behind the trees. More rats.

You skid to a halt, slipping on the icy road. You opened your mouth to scream but no sound would come out.

You’re grabbed from behind—the rat wrapping its grubby paws around your wrists. You thrash about, giving the rodent a swift kick in the legs, which afforded your enough slack to break free.

The other rats are approaching. You don’t think: you run. You make a break into the tree line, hopping over fallen logs and fighting your way through the densely packed snow. They were gaining on you, slowly but surely.

You had to do something. You had no weapons on your person—and even if you did, you wouldn’t’ve known how to use them. 

Up ahead, you spot a sizable boulder to hide behind and launch yourself towards it. You know that it’s only a matter of time before the rats find you. It would be easy, the tracks in the snow lead straight to you. So, you had to think fast.

You looked around you, plunging your hand into the snow in hopes for finding _something_ to defend yourself with. 

Your fist closes over something hard. It’s a rock about the size of your fist, with ice forming a protective outer shell around it. Quickly, you dig your hand back in the snow and withdraw three more stones in varying sizes.

You weren’t a bad throw. You spent many afternoons in your past tossing a ball around with Gon before father and Aunt Mito deemed it an improper pass time for a lady.

You peer around the edge of the boulder. The rats were there, sprinting through the snow with greater difficulty than you, as their legs were much shorter and smaller.

You squeeze the rock in hand and take a deep breath, and throw.

It scrapes the scalp of the nearest rodent, knocking off its hat. You quickly push yourself flush with the rock. The rodents squeak in alarm. You count to ten, then throw your second rock.

This one meets its mark, hitting a rodent square in its pointy nose, knocking it flat on its back out of surprise. You hide, pressing a hand against your chest, as if it will calm your erratic heart. Two more chances. You hate to think what would happen if you miss. 

You shoot upright once more, only this time, the rodents spot you. You fling the rock with all your strength and it smacks against a third rodent’s chest. You are quick to throw your final rock, but don’t stay around to find out if it hit or not. You take off running again, deeper into the Candy Cane Forest.

They’re following you. You can hear their frantic footsteps in the snow as it chases after you. You don’t dare look back, lest you trip and fall.

You’re out of ideas. You haven’t climbed a tree in years, but even if you were confident you could escape that way, the branches were much too small to support your weight. Besides, you didn’t want to risk scraping your leg against the poisoned bark.

Something sharp catches your waist and you cry out, spinning away from the object. It’s a rat, the hatless one, that has caught up with you. It’s comrades aren’t far behind—there are only two, now. You must’ve taken at least three out before.

Swords are drawn. The rats approach. Slowly. Deliberately. 

You stagger back, but you know you’re only prolonging the inevitable. Your feet catch against something and you nearly trip, but manage to save your balance at the last moment. It’s a branch, thick enough to do some damage but small enough to wield.

You snatch it up quickly and thrust at the nearest rodent. It dodges easily, but you don’t allow that to deter you. The next one catches its nose, affording you a moment of distraction.

The rat raises its sword and blocks you. It’s much stronger than it looks. Strong enough to nearly knock the branch out of your hand. Strong enough to cut it in two.

You swing again, not ready to submit to your fate. Your thrusts are reckless and wild, and more often than not your blocked by a rat, but you manage to get a few hits in.

Your back connects with a nearby tree. The rats are closing in around you from all sides. You swing at the one on your left with all your strength, connecting with it’s paw and flinging it’s sword from its grasp.

Unfortunately, your swing left your opposite side completely open and a sword slices your bicep. You drop to the ground, clutching your arm in agony. 

They’re too close. Their putrid scent fills your nose and you fight the urge to gag. They’re even more monstrous up close. One of the rats snarls at you, putting a row of tiny, razor sharp teeth on display.

The nutcracker’s warning about the rodents rings through your mind. _Stabbing, if you're lucky. Biting. Eating your flesh. Ripping your insides out. Or, they might take you with them and throw you in the dungeon._.

You squeeze your eyes shut. Your heart beats loudly within your chest. You’re certain they can hear it. You’re certain they can smell your fear.

 _Maybe_ , you think, _Maybe I’ll finally wake up. Maybe this is all one horrid nightmare. Dreams have the tendency to feel real in the moment. I’m sure, when I wake up, I’ll laugh at the absurdity of it all._

You hold your breath. Your whole body trembles. Something hot splatters across your face and you gasp. Your hand flies to your throat—but it’s not cut.

Your eyes open to find the nutcracker holding one rat head in his block fist while it’s body collapses to the floor. The other rats are surprised. They don’t have time to react before he slashes both of their throats, spraying you with more hot blood.

It’s only when you feel it on your tongue that you realize your mouth is open. 

The rats fall lifelessly, their blood staining the snow red. You can’t help but stare with morbid fascination at their wounds and twitching, nearly dead bodies.

The nutcracker drops the head, a frown marring his face. “I’m surprised you’re alive.”

You blink. Your stomach stirs. The strange feeling travels up your throat and forces its way past your tongue before prying open your teeth, and you laugh.

You know you shouldn’t be laughing. You don’t feel particularly happy or giddy; no, you’re terrified. You want to be screaming or crying or vomiting, but all you can do is laugh.

The nutcracker stares at you as if you’ve grown a second head. “Um, lady? Are you okay?”

You shake your head, laughing painfully. His voice sounds so far away. Your head feels fuzzy. You’re all warm inside despite the cold. Maybe it’s the blood—but it can’t be that. It’s already cooling on your skin. Why are you so warm? 

You sway slightly, laughter dying down. The last thing that you see is the nutcracker reaching for you before the world goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Illumi should appear in the next chapter. Fingers crossed


End file.
